Kiss Me Again
by startswithhope
Summary: A series of Captain Swan kiss prompts, mostly T rated, but a few veer into M territory so I will rate the series as such. Unless otherwise stated, consider these mostly future fics.
1. in the rain long kiss

The sun is high overhead, producing heat just on the other side of comfortable even with the wind from the steady clip of their sail whipping across her skin. She looks behind her to find Killian and suggest that they drop anchor and spend an hour or so in the water (and in considerably less clothes). His back is to her as he gathers a long trail of worn rope, his biceps flexing and back muscles stretching beneath the barely there white shirt she only found out he owned earlier today. Whatever thought she had gets tangled up in her tongue as she watches him work, forever thankful that he's here, that he's hers.

His head whips up to look at the clouds overhead, concern evident even from this distance in the crease of his brow and the wrinkle of his nose. She follow his lead, but only sees the sun as it plays hide and seek with fluffy white clouds. As if on cue, a single drop of rain hits her nose with a splash. Suddenly overcome with joy, she laughs and opens her arms wide, welcoming the rain as two drops become three, four, losing count as the surprise summer shower begins to coat her skin.

She watches as Killian drops the rope to the deck, his smile bright as his focus and direction shift to her. Rain and sweat have turned the white linen into a second skin, making him look like a pirate straight out of one of those cheesy romance novels, all dark chest hair and swarthy skin, eyes growing stormier with each step he takes towards the helm. She's been on the water with him enough times to know when to be afraid of the weather. This passing rain shower is of no concern, it will be over within moments, making her giddy with anticipation to make it count.

She's pretty sure she pulls him in, but his lips are on hers so fast she can't really be sure. All she knows is she has to wrestle her arms from between them to grip the sopping fabric at his back as the whole of him presses her against the wheel. Droplets from his hair hit the top of her nose as she turns her head to change the angle of the kiss, her mouth opening beneath to welcome to languid sweep of his tongue. The initial fervor of the kiss slows, his hand moving to tangle in the wet mess of her hair as his hook settles low at the small of her back. He tastes of salt and warmth, a hint of coffee from their breakfast. Seeking his skin, she bunches his shirt in her palm until the end lifts high enough for her to reach underneath, catching his grunt of enthusiastic approval against her lips.

When his hook mirrors her hand and slides between her wet tank top and her spine, his reward comes in the form of his lower lip finding its favorite spot between her teeth. No sooner has she released it does he dive back in, smiling against her lips as she settles in for the long haul. He kisses the left corner of her mouth and then the right, nudging his nose against hers affectionately until her smile widens and he can slip his tongue back between her teeth.

As her arm circles his neck to pull him impossibly closer, she registers that the rain shower has indeed come to an end. This kiss, however, is far, far from done.


	2. kiss to shut someone up

He's fed up. Done. Frustrated and in need of just one bloody moment where everything isn't centered around solving a crisis or saving the damn town. Internally he curses his thoughts, knowing he chose this life by Emma's side and everything that comes along with that partnership. But, for the love of the Gods, no one can be expected to go on in this constant state of chaos.

Emma's hand is woven tight with his as they walk towards Granny's but her focus is on Snow as they work out the plan of gathering the Dwarves and some of the Lost Boys to help in the search. He's only half listening, trusting the two women to know what's best. His mind is too clouded with annoyance to be of much help at the moment anyway. He just needs…no wants…no, it's definitely a need, he needs a damn second alone with Emma.

They're almost at the door when he tightens his hand around hers and begins to change course to the side of the building.

"Killian, what are you…Mom, I'll be right in…Killian!"

She's scrambling to keep up as his pace quickens, blind determination fully eclipsing all rational thought. He loosens his grip on her hand in fear that he may be hurting her and is thankful that she doesn't let go.

"Are you okay? What's gotten into…"

Turning towards her, he cuts off her question with his lips. Not caring that they aren't even fully out of sight, he wraps his arms around her back and hauls her up until her breasts are pressed hard against his chest and her hands are forced cling to his neck for balance. Knowledge that the end of the kiss means going inside, he aims to prolong it as long as she will allow. When his hook scratches against the brick wall at her back and she lets him guide her up and wrap her legs around his waist he nearly collapses against her in relief.

It takes everything in him to stop from rocking into the warmth of her nestled against his groin, cursing that they don't have time for that as much as the hardening beneath his jeans wishes that weren't the case. Turning his attention towards her mouth, he mumbles against her lips how he simply '"needed a moment" and just how "bloody lovely" she tastes on his tongue. One of her hands moves to cradle his head, strong fingers working through his hair to artfully massage his scalp. His breath stutters against her lips at the overwhelming pleasure of her ministrations. Sliding his mouth along her cheek, he rests his lips along her temple and wills his body to relax, slowly lifting his hips to let her lower her legs back to the ground. Nosing into the side of her hair, he inhales a deep breath full of the tropical scent of her new favorite shampoo.

"Feeling better, Captain?"

"Aye, but that doesn't mean I'm letting you go."

"You know I'm always your willing captive, but we have to…"

"I know, love, I know…"

He feels a tug on the front of his jacket and lifts his head, his lips curving into a smile as his eyes meet the understanding comfort of her gaze. She rises to her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek, her new favorite thing to do since his miraculous resurrection. What he doesn't expect is to feel her breath tickle the hair above his ear as she leans in to whisper an alluring promise.

"When this is all over, I'm looking forward to seeing first hand how proficient Captain Hook can be at tying knots. I'm sure you've got one that even I can't work my way out of."

The thief of his heart and soul scrambles from his arms, leaving him braced against the brick with his eyes clamped to her ass as she walks away from him towards the front of the building. When he finally has the wherewithal to follow, he still can't seem to get his mind on strategy. He's too preoccupied now on how he's to get his bloody book of knots back from Henry.


	3. giggles on the belly button (rated M)

She's set out to learn all of his secrets. Each one uncovered a new treasure, a little piece of him she holds tight, locking them away in her heart instead of the box of mementos tucked in the corner of their closet.

The way he scratches behind his ear when he's nervous isn't a secret. The fact that he also does it when aroused, when her lips have caught his nipple between her teeth as her fingernails rake through the hair on his chest, that's something only she has the privilege to know.

He has a thing for tattoos. She's learned this by the way his tongue traces the flower along her wrist whenever he has her pinned to the bed and the sheer number of them she's found hidden beneath his clothes. Admittedly, the sounds he makes as she nips at the tiny black anchor above his hipbone has given her a startling new appreciation of the art-form.

She already had a clue as to one of his secrets, seeing how flirtatious and amorous his earlier self had become when plied with rum during their time travel adventure. Given the freedom to express his desires, she's let that scene play out more than once, welcoming his advances to a point where's he's taken her over the back of their sofa and half undressed up against the inside of their front door. On of her less than stellar nights as town sheriff they didn't even make it home. She still has the leather burns on her knees as souvenirs from riding his lap in the back seat of her bug, the hole her heel dug into the back of her driver's seat a more permanent reminder.

This latest secret, however, is quickly becoming her new favorite. Fierce, dreaded, notorious pirate, Captain Hook, has the most adorable giggle she's ever heard. She'd set out to map his body with her lips, the candlelight by their bed illuminating his skin where's he's sprawled out beneath her on their navy blue sheets. When she'd reached the tender skin of his belly, she'd felt a telltale quiver that made her wonder. One touch of her tongue to his bellybutton, however, that had sent him over the edge in a fit of giggles the like she's never heard. The strength she's been proud of her whole life is coming in handy now, her wrists pinning his shoulders to the bed as her mouth sets out make it happen again.

She succeeds, but it's short lived, quickly finding herself on her back with a very amused pirate pressing her deep into the sheets. Torture reciprocated is what she expects, his knowledge of all of her ticklish spots a secret she gave up entirely too early in this little game. Always a surprise, he sets out on a very different course. Instead, choosing to remind her of what else he has learned, all of the places on her body that make her thrum with overwhelming need. He spends time cherishing each, just to the point of oblivion before infuriatingly moving on to the next. By the time his lips find her bellybutton in turn, she's writhing against his mouth and practically begging for release. Only after declaring her surrender does he lower his mouth those few remaining inches, finally sending her over the edge she's been desperately reaching for with his tongue.

These secrets, the quiet ones shared by lovers, she had long ago convinced herself were never meant for her to know. As Killian's arm curls beneath her hips and he reaches for her hand to help guide him home between her thighs, she finds herself elated to have been proven wrong.

She's still determined to hear that giggle again, though. Luckily, she has many nights ahead with which to claim her well fought victory.


	4. jealous kiss

_Canon divergence post Killian knocking his past self out in the CS movie._

* * *

"Will you slow down! These damn skirts…"

She stops to untangle the obnoxious fabric at her ankles from the thorny bramble but Killian doesn't, his long strides not wavering ahead of her as his hook slashes wildly through the thick branches in his path. He hasn't said a word since he maneuvered them back off his ship and away from the docks. The only sign that he even seems to remember that she's there are the occasional looks he sends over his shoulder, never meeting her eyes before looking back ahead.

He's obviously upset. Hell, the force of the punch he leveled himself with proved as much. She has an inkling as to the driving force behind his current state, but unless he's willing to speak to her, she'll never know for sure.

Finally free, she picks up her skirts almost to her knees and takes off, determined to catch up and make him talk. Why it's so important to her, she doesn't know _(she does, but she's gotten good at pretending that her concern for Killian's happiness is nothing more than friendship)_. Focused on her feet as she maneuvers over logs and sidesteps fallen branches, she doesn't see him until she's too close to stop the collision.

Lifting her arms to brace for impact, her hands instinctively clasp the lapels of his leather coat as she collides with his chest with a loud and unladylike "oomph". Barely wavering in his stance, his arms come around her, his hook steadying her hip as his hand grips hard to her waist.

"Bloody hell, Swan!"

She has a retort on the tip of her tongue, but she's a bit winded and the feel of him pressed tight against her is doing the opposite of helping her to catch her breath. _(God, he smells good)_ Memories of his former self leaning his hips into hers as he nipped at her bottom lip pass in front of her still closed eyes, making her fingers clench around her Killian's lapels just a bit tighter. _(Her Killian…when did she start thinking of him as hers?)_ She needs to snap out of it.

"If you'd just slow down I wouldn't have to chase you through the damn woods!"

That came out more forceful than she had planned, but dammit, he just gets her so riled up. He's…ugh…so infuriating.

"If you'd learn to follow a simple plan, we wouldn't be in such a hurry to get away from a drunken pirate determined to help you out of those bloody skirts!"

Oh, that's it.

"A drunken pirate? You do realize you are talking about yourself, right? And if he's chasing anyone at the moment, I assure you, it isn't me. It's his own _bloody_ shadow!"

Immediately regretting the words as they fall from her lips, she watches as the muscles along Killian's jaw clench and release. She knows how much Killian has changed from the man they just encountered and determined as she is to win this stupid argument, she doesn't actually wish to cause him unnecessary pain. His hand falls from her waist and he moves to step back, but she doesn't let go, her knuckles whitening with the force of her grip.

"Swan…"

"No, wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"You're wrong, love."

She can feel her temper begin to flare anew, contrasting the swan dive her belly is doing thanks to the step closer he has taken and the long perusal of her lips he isn't even attempting to mask.

"About what?" _(her voice did NOT sound that breathy, did it?)_

"I'm a pirate, love, and a pirate seeks out treasure. A kiss from you is far more valuable than chasing a ghost."

He's so close now that she can't miss the exact moment he realizes the full meaning of his own words, the color on his cheeks darkening at his unintended baring of his heart. Fear tickles her spine, fear of the depth of his feelings, fear at the reality of hers, fear of the unknown. She has to do something to break this tension, at least that's what she tells herself as she says the one thing she knows is guaranteed to send him over the edge.

"He did seem to be enjoying himself, if only you'd let him finish…"

The inside of her upper lip will probably bear the mark of her front teeth at the force of his mouth crashing into hers. His kiss is wild, unleashed, lips moving with fervor over hers faster now that she's moved past surprise and is reciprocating in kind. She does her best to ignore the tightening in her chest at how different it is to kiss this version of Killian, feeling the same longing he's doing a terrible job of hiding as he coaxes his tongue between the seam of her lips. Moving her hands from his lapels up his chest, she lifts to her toes so she can cling to his neck and thread her fingers through his hair.

New tears form in her skirts as she lets him lead her backwards against the nearest tree. It registers somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain that they should stop, that they've wandered down a path she isn't entirely sure she's ready to follow. But with his hand possessively gripping her hip and his mouth leaving a wet trail of kisses along her jaw, her hands splayed open on his chest make no move to push him away.

She shivers as his breath puffs out against the shell of her ear, her fingertips clenching and wrinkling the leather of his vest.

"I hope to never be finished with you, Swan…never…"

"Well hello, dearies. Isn't this an interesting new development…"

The appearance of Rumpelstiltskin is the equivalent of a bucket of ice water being dumped over their heads. Killian jumps so far back he nearly topples on a tree root, leaving her to blindly attempt to smooth back her hair as her cheeks turn the same color as the red in her skirts.

Yes, they need to focus. If they ever want to get home and see where that kiss was hoping to lead, they have to fix the mess they've made and get her parents to fall in love.

Her own fairytale romance will just have to wait.


	5. in the dark and hickey (rated M)

_Mmmmm rated..._

* * *

This is what it has come to. Her spine aligned with the wood of a broom handle, her nose itching from the strong smell of bleach and a wire hanger poking perilously close to her left eye, all things she must put up with to gain one damn minute of privacy to feel Killian's mouth on her skin. He's doing his best to make the most of it, the tug of her earlobe between his teeth a very, very promising start.

She's fully committed to helping deal with this new chaos that has engulfed the town, stopping Jekyll and his band of misfit stories. But, for the first time in what feels like forever, she and Killian aren't the focus of everything going wrong and dammit, she just needs time to be able to enjoy it. So, yeah, while the planning session rages on just ten or so feet away, she's in the broom closet, with Killian, making out.

Obviously aware of her attention straying elsewhere, Killian drags his teeth along the side of her neck, his hand down the back of her jeans dragging her forward against his thigh.

"Sorry…I'm back…please continue…"

"Now that I have your undivided attention…"

Her hands clench hard at the back of his head as his lips close at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, needing an anchor as her legs turn to jelly as he begins to work his mark into her skin. She knows she shouldn't, but she can't help rolling forward against his thigh each time his tongue peeks out to soothe before his lips clamp back down in earnest. Finding out how much doing this turned them both on happened by accident, the first hickey he gave her while making love quickly turning into him on his back with her riding them both into oblivion. If only they could do that now.

His breath is heaving with desire as his masterpiece is finally complete, his swollen lips immediately seeking hers, body taught with barely restrained need. With her body trembling, she can't say she's in any better shape. Pulling him forward, she miraculously manages to find the back of the closet without further injury.

"We have to be quiet."

He barely lifts his lips from hers to speak, mumbling "your magic, love" against the corner of her mouth.

With his hand shifting from the back of her jeans to the front, she barely has a chance to remember the incantation before his palm is grinding down against where she's swollen and aching. Her fingers are shaking, but she manages to get his too tight zipper down far enough to reach in and help him find similar relief. If her magic isn't working, the entire band of heroes in the diner just heard his spectacularly loud groan.

Their kisses turn sloppy as they try to get each other off at the same time, a feat impossibly difficult in this cramped space. She has to relent first, her hand in his pants releasing him to grip hard at his hip as his fingers curl just the right way. The tension between her thighs bursts and his mouth swallows her cry, his tongue working her through her release in tandem with his hand.

Her knees are still shaking when she drops down between his legs, not giving him more than a second to brace his hook over the curtain rod and his hand against the wall before dragging him between her lips. At the first touch of her tongue, she knows it won't take him long. The gruff, "bloody fuck" he expels as her hand joins her mouth tells her as much. She urges his hips to rock forward by her free hand clamped to his ass, rewarding each thrust with a deep suck until he's shouting out his own release.

Collapsing in a heap beside her on the floor of the closet, he drags her onto his lap and kisses her without care of tasting himself on her tongue. It's unbearably awkward, with his pants tangled about his knees and hers hanging halfway down her ass. She laughs first, but he quickly follows. By the time they've both caught their breath they realize her spell has obviously worn off, the incessant chatter once again filtering beneath the crack in the door by his feet.

"You knew exactly what you were doing when you started that, didn't you?"

His hand that was innocently perched at her waist makes a slow move up her ribs, his palm closing possessively over her sweater clad breast.

"Pirate, love."


	6. accidental

_Combining this with a prompt I received to write a missing scene fic set after Killian carries Emma from the ice wall in "White Out"._

* * *

The wailing of the siren is like knives piercing her temples, but she knows she won't get words past the chattering of her teeth to ask David to turn the damn thing off. Pressing her ear deeper into the leather of Killian's coat she tries to muffle the sound, too cold to remove her hand from his waist to cover her other ear. He's like a furnace, the tension still coursing through the firm muscles of his arms where he's cradling her close against him in the back of the cruiser. If she wasn't on the verge of freezing to death she'd probably be backing away, the emotions he isn't even attempting to hide from her overwhelming in their raw intensity. She doesn't know how to mean this much to someone. It's terrifying. It's every fantasy she ever had as a child coming to life as she watched another set of taillights pull away from the group homes, never the one chosen, always alone. It's easy to be afraid of the one thing you crave most when that one thing is love.

As she feels the light touch of a kiss to her hairline she surprises even herself when she doesn't flinch, instead leaning further towards his lips. The slight discomfort from the clasps of his vest digging into her forearm trapped against his chest as he tugs her impossibly closer signaling the feeling in her limbs beginning to return. Pain is something she's used to and she tries her damnedest to focus on that. But his hand has begun tracing circles on her back, each pass moving higher until the skin of her neck warms at the tentative press of his palm. Try as she might, she isn't strong enough to fight it. She needs more of his touch, the steady comfort and affection he's keen to provide succeeding in warming her from the inside out.

When she lifts her hand from his waist he moves to drop his from her neck, but her fingers find his to draw him back, pressing his palm firmly against her cheek. Her hair ruffles as he releases a long breath into it, her name barely heard over the still droning on of the sirens. As she holds tight to his forearm, his thumb traces back and forth along the line of her cheekbone, the backs of his rings slightly cooler than the rough skin of his palm against her skin. Fear at all she feels for him in the moment tingles at the base of her spine, a sharp contrast to the blossoming warmth radiating everywhere they touch.

Trying to take a step forward instead of back, she lifts her head to look up at him for the first time since collapsing into his arms at the wall of ice. The downward angle of his head and their close proximity has her cold chapped lips brushing feather light against the almost shocking warmth of his. His closed eyes shoot open at the touch, his fingertips sliding just far enough forward to cup lightly at the back of skull to hold her in place. She could move if she wanted, but she doesn't. Her lips thaw further with each hot breath he releases, his eyes a thunderous storm of gold tipped blue as they dart back and forth from her eyes to her mouth. Not caring in the slightest that David can see them if he were to look in his rear view mirror, she gives what he is silently asking for and covers his mouth in a quick, but firm kiss. Before he can fully respond, she pulls back and ducks her head between his and the rough leather of the back seat.

She can feel the rapid pulse of his heartbeat against her lips as she hides her head against his throat, his hand now buried deep in her hair flexing against her scalp. The pounding between her ears heightens as emotions she's spent a lifetime pushing down force their way to the surface and bang against her eyelids in the form of tears. Arms not wanting to ever let her go, lips that will never tire of her taste, eyes that will always look out for her first, all things she knows Killian would provide if only she would allow. The remaining walls she's built around her heart he has yet to break down, once strong as granite, feel suddenly replaced by ice. Ice, while still strong, has proven to be far more penetrable.

When Killian refuses to let her go when they arrive at the loft, his arms steadfast in their strength as he carries her up the stairs, a huge chunk of that ice falls like a glacier sliding beneath the warming sea. More pieces crumble with each passing minute he remains perched on his knee by her side, leaving one last shard she knows she will have to remove herself. If she's going to love him, she can't lose him. She'll do everything in her power from here on out to keep him safe.


	7. on the chest in the dark

_on the chest + in the dark - set during the trip back from Neverland amidst the clouds_

* * *

Dawn is beginning to win its fight with the stars, the blanket of night being slowly pulled back to welcome the encroaching sun. From this high vantage point there are no waves to create a horizon and he finds himself mesmerized as the entirety of the sky morphs before his eyes. He's not naive. He knows that the changes he sees is simply a mirror of his own, the span of 5 days all it took to set him on an altered course. If only he could magic his heart as he does his ship, command it to lead him towards safety instead of the unknown waters ahead. Emma Swan has somehow succeeded in replacing his vengeance as his Polaris, the fixed point he will now use to navigate his already too long life. This new journey may be prove his most hazardous yet.

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rise in awareness as the sorceress of his thoughts approaches and settles her hand beside his on the rail. The predawn light isn't strong enough to give him a clear view of her face but he can still make out the determined set of her jaw as she looks out upon the stars.

"Not tired, love?"

"Exhausted, actually."

"You don't need to stay up, Swan, I'll be sure to keep my ship on…"

His words fall away at the cool touch of her hand over his, fingertips tentatively pressing down between his knuckles.

"I know, I trust you… _Killian_."

Heat prickles beneath his skin at the sound of his true name falling from her lips and he almost reaches for her when her hand pulls away to once again grip the wood at her waist. Tiny moments like this, glimpses of the woman hidden behind broken trust and soul hardening heartbreak, he will do anything within his power to earn every one.

"Look!"

The mast behind them groans as the main sail catches a thick cloud, the moist air blanketing them both suddenly in a sea of misty white. His feet shuffle quickly as his ship adjusts to the change in atmosphere. Turning slightly, he catches Emma just as she stumbles, her childlike laughter as she clutches to his biceps the best sound he's heard in centuries. Torn between wanting the cloud to pass so he can see her face and the knowledge that when it does she will undoubtedly let go, he closes his eyes and lets the moment sink in as long as the universe will allow. When her hands loosen on his arms he prepares for the inevitable, but finds his heart plummeting to his stomach as her arms wind around his waist to wrap him in a hug. Stumbling to respond to a long unfamiliar embrace, he clings to her back almost awkwardly, his focus centered on the warmth of her breath as she whispers against the skin of his throat.

"Thank you…for Henry…for… _everything_ …"

She's gone before the ship emerges from the cloud, the feel of her pressed against his body much like a vibrant dream fading as consciousness pulls him from sleep. It wasn't a dream, though, as impossible as that may seem. Turning back towards the approaching sun, his fingers press tight against his sternum, hoping to memorize the shape of the lips that just brushed an unmistakable kiss to his bare chest.

He can't help but wonder if there will ever be a time when she will kiss him and not need to run away. No longer the wide-eyed Lieutenant eager to face his next grand adventure, he steels himself for the rocky waters ahead in his mission to earn the heart of Emma Swan.


	8. drunk kiss

_9\. Drunk Kiss - t_ _his was too much fun and this goes out to anyone who just might need a little fluff and a smile._

* * *

"You don't have to, Swan."

"Hey! I can handle it. I just need a miment!"

"Miment, love?"

"…a monent, oh just shut up."

He knows what she's trying to say even if she doesn't have a bloody clue. Five shots of his most potent rum in (the stuff he's had hidden in his cabin for decades) has rendered Emma completely inebriated, whether she is prepared to admit or not. Centuries of practice has him only mildly affected, the warmth buzzing through his veins more from his enjoyment of Emma's adorable stubbornness than the alcohol itself.

As she lifts the shot glass once again to her lips and winces as the liquid burns her throat, he grabs the bottle and corks it before she can protest. Her thumb is sticky from the rum when her hand shoots out to close around his over the bottle.

"I'm not done…"

"Aye, love…just thought we should pace ourselves. Perhaps some water is in order?"

The telltale sound of wood scratching wood pierces the air as her chair slides back and she rises to stand.

"I'll get it…whoa…" As she sways on her feet, his first instinct is to catch, but she does just fine on her own (that's his Swan), bracing both hands on the edge of their kitchen table to regain her balance.

"Alright there, love?"

"I'm fine. Just need time to get my sea legs…"

In her current state, he's not entirely sure if she's making a joke or if she does indeed think they are on his ship. Regardless, he's finding himself even more enamored with her with each passing second. When she looks up at him, he matches her goofy grin with one of his own as he takes in the cheery red of her nose and cheeks. Her hair is currently piled atop her head in a messy cloud, her body barely covered in the shirt she stole from his side of the closet a week ago and now refuses to return. With the curves of her breasts peaking from the open collar and the enticing expanse of her gorgeous legs on display, he hopes to never get it back.

"I love you, Swan."

Her nose crinkles adorably as her head dips a bit to hide the seemingly impossible deepening of the blush upon her cheeks. Seeing all of this just makes him want to say it again.

Watching her finally push away from the table to head to the sink, he stays poised to rise to his feet to assist if her legs don't manage to get her safely to her destination. It only takes her a few (okay, five) tries for her to get the faucet turned on. She drinks two full glasses of water before turning back around, her somewhat glassy eyes settling back on him as she wipes her mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. Desire churns deep in his gut at the sight of her all messy and soft and his hand is reaching for her at the exact moment her legs start moving towards his chair.

Soft skin meets his palm as he steadies her waist beneath his shirt, her legs wobbly as she maneuvers herself to sit facing him on his lap. Her lips claim his in a clumsy slide even before she's fully seated. Leaning in to the kiss, he pulls her closer with his hand at the small of her back, urging her to anchor her hands around his neck to keep her steady. Feeling drunk and dizzy by the strength of her passion, he groans at the first taste of her rum soaked tongue as she licks between his teeth.

It's an absolute mess of a kiss.

 _He never wants it to end._

By the time it does, his hair is standing up at all angles from her fingers while hers is knotted in his hook at the base of her neck. He'd be surprised if he could find an inch of his face not marked by the touch of her lips. Her forehead is resting against his, the tips of their noses crushed together as they both attempt to catch their breath.

"I love you, too."

Humming contentedly, he nudges his nose affectionately against hers in response.

"I love that you can't hold your rum."

His breath catches as she leans back in to brush her lips against his, keeping her mouth hovering just out of reach when he attempts to reciprocate.

"I'm not the only one, if you remember."

"Alas, love, I don't have the pleasure of this blessed memory, care to give me a refresher?"

She surprises him when she shakes her head in refusal. Before he can ask her why, she's adjusting herself closer to she can press her lips against his ear.

"I'd rather we both remember this moment instead."

Flushed with a wave of emotion, his lips find her cheek, her nose, the corners of her mouth before pressing a firm kiss to the center of her smile.

"I think that can be arranged, Swan."

He registers her mumbling something about a _nightcap_ against his lips as he kisses her again in earnest, all of his focus now on the downward roll of her hips as his fingers work to divest her of his shirt. When she reaches between them to do the same with his, their course sets steadily on making this evening as memorable as possible (for them both).


	9. no kissing - (rated m)

_Prompt: NO KISSING_

* * *

Sure, she's probably acting out her teenage fantasies where she had a boyfriend who would take every opportunity to press her back into her locker, all hips and tongues and hands until a teacher would break them up, heated looks speaking promises fulfilled in the next break between classes. And yeah, they should definitely find other places to do this, right in the entrance to Granny's or leaning against the door of her parent's loft both locations pretty much guaranteed to have constant interruption. But, she lost him, mourned him, and now he's back and she'll be damned if she isn't going to kiss him whenever and wherever the impulse may arise. Considering he initiates more than his share of said kisses, well, he's apparently of a similar mind.

This one was all him though, and she's still a bit flustered. The soft silk of his hair is still caught between her fingertips, his hand stroking her jaw as they both attempt to catch their breath in the aftermath.

"For heaven's sake, can't you two go even 24 hours without snogging each other's faces off?"

"Sod off, Zelena."

"Careful, Pirate, or those lips of yours might find themselves cursed…. _again_."

Feeling Killian's chest rise against her breasts, Emma holds tight to his neck to keep his focus on her instead of the annoyance over his shoulder. She's just as leery of Zelena's apparent turn to the good side as Killian and is fighting her own instincts to let her fist get acquainted with witch's face. But, this new alliance is still shaky and they don't need to add more problems to the ones they already have.

"She's not worth it, Killian, let's go."

Anger and frustration spark the gold flecks in his eyes like flint hitting granite before his eyes close in agreement, the deep breath he takes his only response before grabbing her hand from his neck to lead her back down the hallway into the diner. As the door swings shut behind them she can hear Zelena still going on and on about how it _"isn't her fault that she needed to use the loo and Mr. and Mrs. Happy Ending can't find somewhere else to be nauseating"_.

These Mills Sisters really did fall from the same sarcastic tree.

They both decide it's better to get their lunch to go. After a calming picnic of grilled cheese on the deck of the Jolly Roger, things feel back to normal, greasy fingers entwined over Killian's thigh as they stretch out on the quarterdeck to soak in the summer sun.

"Do you think we could do it, love?"

"Hmm?"

"24 hours without kissing, do you think we'd make it?"

Is he serious? Lifting her head from his shoulder she peers over to find him looking at her with eyebrow raised, the crooked lift of his smile showing the verge of a challenge to be waged.

"Oh god, why are you taking the bait? She was just trying to get under your skin."

"Not taking any bait, love, merely curious as to the strength of your self-control…"

"My self-control? It was me who was assaulted by YOU as I was trying to leave the bathroom, not the other way around, buddy."

"I seem to remember your tongue being the aggressor, not mine, Swan."

Now she's the one being baited, she knows it. Dammit, she's already hooked. Pulling her hand from his, she swivels and waits until he sits up to look her in the eye.

"Care to make a bet?"

The expression he gives her in response is more Captain Hook than Killian Jones and she's beginning to rethink what she's about to agree to.

"What shall we wager, love? First to break loses, of course. The winner, perhaps, shall be allowed to choose their prize?"

"I accept those terms, but we should set some ground rules. Any kiss, _anywhere_ , counts…"

"Aye, no lips, understood. Shall we shake on it?"

Why in the hell are they doing this, she wonders. With his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip as he stretches his hand to meet hers halfway, she feels the first tug of want deep in her belly, and is suddenly really on board with this idea. They are going to drive one another crazy and she can't wait to get started.

Enclosing his hand in hers, she gives it a firm shake, keeping her eyes firmly clamped to his lips the entire time.

"You'll have to do better than that, love."

Knowing full well he knows who he is dealing with, she doesn't respond, instead scooting forward on her knees until she's balanced right in front of his face. Using his shoulders as leverage, she leans into him, chuckling when she moves to stand and the tip of his nose catches the collar of her tank top and reveals the top of her breasts right before his eyes. She's still laughing as she shimmies her hips across the deck to toss the last bits of her crust to the ducks bobbing in wait by the dock.

Killian leaves her be for longer than expected, keeping himself busy inspecting his ship as he prepares to set sail. She knows exactly what he's doing. He's thinks he can prompt her to make another move, but she's fully prepared to wait for him to show his hand.

They're at least a mile out from Storybrooke's harbor before he does.

"Swan, can you assist me for a moment?"

He's at the helm waiting for her, his smile bright and absent of any innuendo, but she knows better. Crossing towards him with all senses on high alert, she waits for him tell her exactly what he it is he could possibly need _assistance_ with.

"Can you keep your hands on the wheel for me, love? I need to go up in the Crow's Nest to look for any vessels ahead."

"You know I don't know how to steer this thing."

"Just keep _her_ steady, I won't be long."

He steps away, avoiding any contact with her at all as she takes her place at the wheel. The lack of his touch is already making the fun of this little game start to wane. Placing her hand exactly where he had been gripping, she chases his warmth on the worn wood beneath her fingertips. It's been, what, twenty minutes, and she's already beginning to regret this whole thing. A few feet away, she watches as Killian stops in front of rope ladder that will lead him up to the circular wooden platform above. Expecting him to start climbing, she almost calls out to him when he just seems to be standing there staring ahead. But, then she sees his shoulders move and watches as he shrugs his vest to the deck at his feet. His hand disappears back in front of him again and she knows immediately what he's about. She knows she should look away, not give him the satisfaction of watching him undress, but this show is just for her and she intends to enjoy every minute of it.

His muscles flex sinfully as he works his shirt over the complicated brace holding his hook in place and she finds herself leaning forward into the wheel, the ache between her thighs seeking contact with something, anything she can find. The tight fit of his jeans leaves nothing to the imagination as he begins the arduous climb up the rope. By the time he's reached the top, she's breathing as hard as he is, sweat building between her breasts and at the back of her neck as her thoughts stray to very dangerous territory. She really should have known better than to wager with a pirate, a pirate who is quickly learning every single thing he can do to turn her on. Knowing better than to watch his descent, she directs her thoughts to how she can turn this situation back around in her favor. Moving quickly, she tugs the holder from her ponytail – instantly regretting that decision when the ends whip back to strike her in her face. But, she knows how much he loves her hair down, already having lost count of the number of times he's told her so while holding the tresses between his fingers as his lips pressed marks into her skin.

She has to steel herself as he crosses back towards her with his own hair in complete disarray and his bare chest still heaving from his excursions. She's seen him in this state before, poised between her thighs or worn out beneath her on their mattress at home. With crystal clarity, she suddenly knows exactly what she has to do if she's to get what she wants (needs) and win this stupid bet.

"Your ship can sail herself, right?"

His eyes dart to her fingers now gripping the hem of her tank top and the patch of skin she's revealing as she slowly inches it up over her belly.

"Aye, love, when necessary."

Leaving the material bunched beneath her breasts, she pops the top button of her jeans and slides her fingers down just barely beyond the waistband of her panties.

"I'd say it's necessary, wouldn't you?"

Swaths of red break out along his neck and cheeks as he watches her fingers delve further, the storm brewing in his eyes evident as he moves with astonishing quickness to join her at the helm, his hook latching to the wheel behind her to cage her in.

"I see your inner pirate has come out to play, Swan, but…" His fingers suddenly covering hers to press down against her center succeeds in cutting off whatever response was dripping from her tongue. "…I've had many more years of practice."

His fingers lace through hers to give him the access he needs, his middle finger taking the lead in circling her clit in a dance sure to drive her mad. Turning her head, she silently urges him to lean in to press his nose behind her ear, the sensitive spot just dying to feel the gentle suck of his lips. Gripping hard to the waistband of his jeans with her free hand, she gives in to her body's need for some kind of release. He doesn't disappoint, using their joined hands to press down as his fingers seek entrance, teasing and stroking as his hot breath wets the already scorching skin of her throat with his lips less than an inch from her skin.

"That's it, love, let go…"

The husky rasp to his voice reminds her of her original intention, but focusing is so hard through the haze of pleasure wrapping around her with every expertly navigated movement of his hand. Reaching blindly, she finds the hard length of him beneath her palm and presses down against the straining denim until she feels his gasp of breath caress her ear. Of course, he retaliates. With one curl of his fingers, she's back to gripping his waistband again, holding on for dear life as he shows now mercy. Her forehead falls to his collarbone as she comes hard, her hand beneath his close to cramping as he works her fervently through each wave until she's pulling his fingers away to give her some much needed relief.

When she lifts her head she sees the look of satisfaction on his face, but keeps her gaze steady, not wanting to give away a thing. He has no idea that she's already won.

Unwinding her fingers from his, she makes a move to wipe her hand off on her shirt between her breasts, but changes course, making sure his eyes are on hers when she does. She knows she's playing dirty, but that's the way of pirates. Pulling him forward with her fingers still hooked in his jeans, she traps his hand against her stomach and slowly lifts her fingers to her mouth. Still coated with her essence, she runs the pads of her fingertips along her bottom lip, tempted to peek out her tongue to further tempt him to break. Reaching down to palm him once again, she flexes her fingers harder as he leans down and presses his nose hard against her cheek.

"Bloody hell, Emma. You don't fight fair."

"I've learned from the best."

Before he can even think of bringing his own hand to his mouth to outwit her, she drops her fingers to his wrist and draws his hand beneath the hem of her shirt to her breast. He must be too far gone to realize what she's done, because he's pushed beneath her bra in seconds in seek of her bare skin. The feel of his palm against her over-sensitive nipple has her writhing forward, her lips coming dangerously close to his as her head tips back slightly on a moan.

"Truce, love?"

God, she wants to, but she can't. She's too close to victory. Shifting her hand to around to his ass, she maneuvers her thigh between his legs and pushes him forward until she can feel the heat of him throbbing against her hipbone. He groans at the contact and she lines her mouth up with his at the ready just a breath away.

"Never."

His hips surge forward soon followed by his mouth, lips hot and wet against hers as his tongue finally sweeps out to taste what she so brazenly left behind.

"I surrender, Swan, I surrender to your mercy."

All she needed to hear, she tugs his lips back to hers with her own and revels in the sweetness of her victory. You'd think it had been weeks or days, not less than hour since they last did this by the desperation fueling this kiss. Pulling back from his mouth, she dips her nose into his dimple before pressing a light kiss there, following a well traversed path along his jaw.

"Did I really succeed in bringing Captain Hook to his knees?"

His hand flexes with purpose over her breast as he takes a sharp breath in, muttering, "gladly, if that's what you wish" with as much innuendo as he can muster. (a lot, a whole lot)

Giving his ass a firm squeeze, she moves her hand back to the front of his jeans and pops the button with a determined flick of her fingers.

"I'd much prefer you on your back."

* * *

When they spot Zelena later that night at Granny's, Killian pretends not to see her as Emma diverts her attention to the band aid covering the splinter in her palm she received while riding Killian hard into the deck of his ship.

Knowing Killian's pride won't allow Zelena to be proven right; Emma's already looking forward to the inevitable rematch ahead.

She _might_ just let him win next time. It's not like either of them will really lose in the end anyway.


	10. stomach and hipbone

It takes him a moment to settle in to what exactly he's feeling as he watches her move about their kitchen. With her bare feet padding along the hard wood, looking slightly rumpled in her light blue flannel pajamas and hair piled high atop her head, she looks more beautiful than if she was back in her ball gown from Camelot. As stunning as she was that night, what he sees know, this is his Emma, without walls or armor. She looks…content.

Content is not something he's ever known how to feel, the idea so foreign he feels a bit winded at the realization that he's finally found its meaning. All this grand talk of happy endings and True Love somehow managed to eclipse the simple joy of _this_ , this bone deep happiness with the state of life as it is. His heart doesn't ache for something more, more adventure, more treasure or excitement. There is no ache now, just a beat that speeds up at every smile, touch, kiss - every look across the room meant only for him.

It's taken nearly 300 years, but he finally knows what it is to be content.

She catches him staring as she turns from the sink to wipe her wet hands on the sides of her pants and he can't stop the swoosh of his belly at her mild blush and the adorable twitching of her nose. His Emma is still not used to be wanted. That thought is still lingering in his mind as she crosses back over to him at the couch with the last bite of her toast clenched between her teeth.

His hand stops her progress as she tries to step between his knees and the coffee table, grabbing somewhat possessively at her hip as his hook nudges her forward behind her knee. She mumbles something through her mouthful, but doesn't protest, instead looking down to meet his upturned gaze. Without much of a plan as to what he had in mind he merely rests his chin against her stomach and smiles, watching her lips slowly turn upwards as she continues to chew.

His telltale heart flutters like the wings of a butterfly about to take flight as her fingers weave softly into the back of his hair and his eyes close to allow the feeling of it to really sink in. Nosing through the opening of her shirt, he finds her taught stomach with his lips and begins to kiss abstract patterns along her warm skin. When her belly quivers slightly and her fingers flex against his scalp, he smiles along the sensitive spot before moving to the crease of her hip.

Every cell in his body is alert with anticipation, but he wants to keep things gentle, not necessarily leading anywhere but here. As he tugs lightly on her pants to reveal just the top of her hipbone he picks up a familiar scent, the jungle of Neverland home to many foreign plants, but also healing ones, like aloe, which must be one of the fragrances in Emma's bathing soaps. It seems fitting in a way, considering how she has mended him from villain to the man he has become.

Choosing to stay in the here and now, he pushes those memories out of mind with a playful bite to the tip of her hip. A pleasure filled laugh breaks the hushed quiet as she gives a gentle tug to the strands of his hair still caught between her fingers. He continues to kiss the skin just above her waistband, noticing how her hips have begun to rock slightly towards his mouth.

That resolve to keep things light begins to crumble.

Looking up he sees her smiling down at him with the same mix of desire and happiness he feels swirling deep in his belly.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

Her grin widens as she maneuvers herself down onto his lap and his want of her becomes painfully obvious, a pleasure filled grunt falling from his lips despite his best effort to stifle it. There's a quip there in response to hers on the tip of his tongue, but he lets it slide in lieu of her mouth settling over his and the soft flannel of her shirt warming his bare chest.

She tastes of peanut butter and chocolate, and he chases the tiny hint of cinnamon just at the tip of her tongue. The kiss turns sloppy and somewhat silly and soon they are both pulling back in laughter, or giggles, if he's being completely honest. With her hands propped against the couch on either side of his head and her loving smile as his anchor, he welcomes another wave of contentment as it washes over them both.

"Permission granted, my love."


End file.
